


the olive grove

by plalligator



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Banter, F/M, Mid-Thick As Thieves, Missing Scene, Politics, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 03:09:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11842719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plalligator/pseuds/plalligator
Summary: “If anyone manages to topple the kingdom in the next hour, they’re welcome to it.”





	the olive grove

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Trismegistus (Lebateleur)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lebateleur/gifts).



> for trismegistus--happy hamiathes exchange! i started this off based on your prompt about gen and irene sneaking away from their retinue but it sort of went in a different direction, more of a missing scene from thick as thieves???? anyway, i hope you like it! your prompts were all great and i had real trouble choosing between them. :)

“My queen, may I borrow you for a while?”

They had just finished the afternoon court session. Normally, Attolia would have retired to her chambers, and Eugenides to his, but instead he approached her.

“What for?” she asked.

“I thought we might go for a ride,” he said.

She remained impassive, surveying him. He hated riding, as she well knew, and even more so once he lost his hand. He grinned back at her, undaunted. 

She sighed. She was unusually tired from court, and neither her breakfast nor her midday meal had agreed with her. What she really wanted was to go to her cool dark chambers and lie down. But he was asking, and though she hated to admit it, he wouldn’t ask unless it was important.

The process to get the horses saddled and ready and to assemble their respective retinues was long and tedious, and it was late afternoon by the time they began to ride out. Eugenides led them, apparently at random, down behind the palace where silvery olive trees perched on the hillside. The sky was a gauzy, scorching blue fading to white at the horizon. It was pleasant under the trees, and outside the palace walls the breeze was more apparent. She was almost enjoying the ride when Eugenides reined his mount to a stop. 

“Hmm…” he said. “How about here?” They were in a little hollow that was ideal for collecting rainwater, as the grass was unusually lush. 

“I defer to your judgement, my king,” she said coolly, folding her hands across the pommel of her saddle. 

“Here, then,” he said, dismounting. She sighed soundlessly through her nose, betraying no outward sign of her annoyance, and dismounted as well.

“You may leave us,” she said to the complement of the Guard that accompanied her and waited for them to leave. She and Eugenides wouldn’t be truly alone, of course—they almost never were—but there was enough of an illusion of it that they could talk privately. 

“Well?” she said when the Guard had filtered out of sight in the trees. He arched an eyebrow at her. 

“Well, what?”

She gestured to the olive grove in silent question. 

"It's a beautiful day,” he said. 

"And yet the business of the kingdom does not wait,” she said, propping a hand on her hip. “Need I remind you that there are those who would be happy to see Attolia fall?"

“If anyone manages to topple the kingdom in the next hour, they’re welcome to it,” said Eugenides, flopping down onto the ground and linking his hands behind his head. “We can move to the Gede Valley and start a farm.” He tilted his head back, looking at her upside-down. “Unless you would prefer to move back into the Queen of Eddis’s library with me?”

She hesitated, ready to reprimand him, but noted the tired lines around his eyes. Her king did a fine job of acting carefree and mercurial, but he had shouldered his responsibility with a single-minded determination. That in the end was what convinced her.

“What do you know about farming?” she said instead, lightly, settling herself with a care to her skirts. Without prompting, he lifted his head so he could rest it in her lap. 

"How rude," he said, squirming to get comfortable. She swatted him on the forehead lightly. "I can tell you all about the types of grain grown in Attolia." 

"I think you might do better becoming a boot polisher again," she said after a moment of feigned consideration, and he laughed. 

"Good gods, no," he said with real distaste. "The only upside to that job was Kamet's poetry."

"Well then I suppose you are stuck with being king after all, my liege," she said. 

"Alas and alack," said the king mournfully, and while he was being facetious, she knew him well enough to know how often he hid disguised his true feelings in a joke. Her stomach gave the familiar nauseous clench of guilt it always did when she was reminded of how much he truly hated being king.

She bent to kiss his nose, impulsively, and felt a tug at her head. He had reached up to pluck at the pins holding her hair up, sending it tumbling down around her shoulders. 

"I'd do it again in a heartbeat," he said softly into the darkened canopy created by her loose hair. 

“I have something to tell you,” she said in response. 

He smiled up at her.

“I know,” he said, flicking his eyes at her stomach. She was stunned into silence, but only for a moment.

“Gods damn you,” she hissed. “How on earth...?” 

“I know everything,” he said smugly, but he must have seen something in her face. “All my sisters are married,” he explained hastily. “The process isn’t new to me. You’ve been looking rather green at breakfast lately.” 

Ah. That explained it.

“I ought to know better than to buy into your claims of omniscience,” she said peevishly, combing her hair back from her face and flipping it over her shoulder. “It’s the outside of enough that your attendants think you’re some sort of god.” 

“Please don’t even joke about that,” he said, his expression turning sober, a flash of fear in his eyes. “I don’t fancy being struck down by lightning.” Irene remembered glass shattering all over her palace and had to admit that he had a point. 

“It’s going to be a girl,” she said after a moment. “I know it.” 

Eugenides looked up at her, dark eyes unreadable, but didn’t dispute it, or ask why she was so sure.

“She will be the next queen of Attolia,” she continued, certain of it as she was of the ground beneath her. “There will be no male heirs in my line.” 

The court would be against it. The barons would be against it. One queen was an acceptable anomaly, two was a troubling pattern. 

“Will you stand with me on this?” she asked, already knowing the answer. 

“I will, my queen,” he said.

And she believed him.


End file.
